


Oral Histories from the Reaper War

by Ms_Adequate



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Oral History, Reapers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2018-11-03 21:46:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10975950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Adequate/pseuds/Ms_Adequate
Summary: A project I've been toying with for awhile. Basically World War Z-style stories from the Reaper Invasion of the Mass Effect Shep!Trilogy. Not going to be a priority for me but I hope to knock a few works out here and there, jumping around the galaxy.Will inevitably contain total spoilers for the entire Mass Effect trilogy.





	1. Burak 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A batarian soldier named Burak recounts his experiences of the Reaper War.

**[The batarian invites me to sit, and pours us both a cup of wine as I do so. He sits back with evident relish, then fixes his three remaining eyes on me and speaks.]**  
  
Well, you’ve got me, so what can I do for you?  
  
**Let’s start with the basics, Major Burak. Where were you born, and what were you doing when the Reapers arrived?**  
  
I was born on Khar’shan, and until the Reaper invasion I was a soldier in the Batarian Navy. And, yes, before you ask, I took part in slave raids. I wasn’t in the Skyllian Blitz but I put people in chains in the name of the Hegemony. **[He takes a slow sip.]** I didn’t have many career prospects other than that. Then one day, ships so large they blocked out the sky arrived, and we learned that your hero hadn’t been bullshitting us about having to wipe out Bahak.  
  
As for me personally, I was enjoying a little leave and trying to find the right candidate for an evening’s entertainment. I heard screaming and thought it was a slave who had done something to get their control chip triggered, but it didn’t stop after a few seconds, it got louder. Then that horrible noise started. The one that we can all still hear today, when it’s quiet. I stepped outside just as the first Reaper beam fired, and saw the Bureau of Hegemonic Welfare get vaporized. One of the tallest buildings around, gone in an instant.  
  
**The Reapers used the same tactics as the other capital worlds, then?**  
  
They did. A few of the biggest cities were flattened from orbit, but just like Earth and Palaven and Thessia, most were to be directly invaded. I sprinted back towards my base only to see it get melted ahead of me. At first they didn’t have many ground forces, which is probably why I survived. They had only arrived in the galaxy, and not had time to harvest many. Still, plenty of husks rained down around us. I saw more beams striking around the city, and quickly realized they were wiping out other bases. Fortunately I came across a checkpoint, and an officer there let me requisition a gun. He demanded I stay to defend it, but I bullshitted him about having to find my CO and got away.  
  
**You didn’t intend to stay and fight? Weren’t you concerned about repercussions?**  
  
I knew that if these Reapers were making a landing on our capital they must have already torn apart our navy. I also knew that if they had done so with such speed nobody had any forewarning, they must be terrifyingly powerful. They weren’t screwing around, either, every few seconds a beam would lash out and annihilate another building or city street. My best chance was to get out of there and hide in the wilderness, at least until someone got things organized and we could push back. Didn’t work out that way.  
  
As for repercussions, no. My excuse for bailing out would have been the right thing to do, and nobody could have proved it wasn’t my intention. I knew he’d been on the base when it got atomized, but nobody else knew that I knew. Besides, from the husks I was starting to see here and there, I quickly reckoned a military execution wasn’t the worst fate. I was running down Atherak Boulevard when I had to kill my first one. It was deceptively easy. A few rounds later I exchanged thermal clips, stepped over the body, and carried on my way. There were already plenty of people on the streets, most just running, but some were loading up vehicles. I saw one family patriarch instructing his two slaves to follow behind them with the other car, to be carrying the supplies they needed. Didn’t stick around long enough to see what the slaves did but I doubt they were very happy with that order.  
  
**So you made your own way out of the city. What came next?**  
  
I found an abandoned skycar and took it for a spin. With so much panic I was just one among thousands and I didn’t get targeted, but I set it down a few miles into the countryside. I needed time to think and catch my breath. Lucky for me, the car had some water bottles in it. No food though. So I sat and thought, and I watched countless others fly overhead, until they started being chased down by those drones the Reapers have. Knew then I’d made the right choice landing, but I had to get away from the car or I was an obvious target. So I started out on foot, away from the city but with no particular destination. Turned to evening as I walked and I could see the glow of the burning city behind me. Hell of a sight.  
  
I walked most of the night. Didn’t see much except occasional cars. Guess everyone got out while the getting was good. I tried to get some sleep before dawn, but that was a foolish hope. It’s a good thing I failed though, because the first thing I saw when dawn came was a messed up husk. I didn’t hesitate, I just emptied my gun into it and started running. Eventually I calmed down enough to vomit, then catch my breath and reload. I found I was next to a highway, which wasn’t a great idea, so I was about to duck back into the woods when a truck came up the road at high speed.  
  
Someone in it shouted to me, and it turned out to be a bunch of soldiers who were falling back to an airbase way outside town. The fight was still raging in the city and it was hoped air support might turn things. They said we’d managed to hammer one of the Reapers hard enough to blast off its shell and kill it, which was damn good news in my book. I hopped up into the truck and made like I’d got similar orders. Fell asleep before I knew what was happening, and one of my comrades shook me awake after our arrival.  
  
The base was in a goddamn panic, but it was still intact and still launching air raids, which was damn good news as far as I was concerned. For a minute I thought maybe the Reapers were much better in space than planetside, and we might be able to beat them. [He laughs without humor.] So I went with the others and reported in. Said I’d been heading to my base and saw it glassed in front of me, which was true enough, and that I’d made my way out of the city in an effort to find other intact forces. Again, true enough.  
  
**What was the situation at the base? Were you assigned new duties? Did you know who was in overall command?**  
  
One question at a time! I didn’t know myself, but rumors around the base said that Admiral Bregkhon was leading the Third and Fifth Armadas back to the homeworld and bringing the full fury of the Hegemony down on the Reapers. That was reassuring, for sure. Bregkhon was a capable leader, maybe our best, and if he was still in this then so was the Hegemony. Or so I thought. I checked in with the first officer I found, and it turned out they didn’t give a damn why I was there, just that I was. I was appended to the Third Battalion, Squad Seven. We were to be sent on a mission that evening, so I had time to find my new comrades, take a look around the base, and, if I was very very lucky, get some food and sleep.  
  
The base was packed with soldiers like me, who had fallen back, often the only survivors of their units. There was a lot of disarray. Worse, a lot of civilians outside the base, begging to be let in, asking for food or shelter, demanding to know what was happening. We had to use a lot of soldiers to keep things secure. At least at first. Shuttles coming and going constantly, too, and you could tell which ones had been in the fight because they usually had parts blown off. Most only disgorged a few injured and shellshocked soldiers. Well, I was looking for a mess when everything went straight to hell and Reaper forces started raining down.  
  
**You didn’t get a chance to have a rest?**  
  
Just on the truck. **[Burak takes a long, deep drink that empties his glass. As he refills it, he continues.]** They must have had time to process plenty of people, because we had our first meeting with cannibals on the base. Weak, like husks, and numberless, like husks. Of course when it’s the first time you see what the Reapers have done to your own species, it’s a shock. When we found our bearings and started firing back, we were even more shocked to see one run over and start eating its fallen comrade. That was… well.  
  
We fought back bravely. The first one or two waves, we beat them, but they didn’t stop raining down on us. Just without end. I found myself taking cover behind a shuttle, and suddenly the thing’s engines blasted on and someone was yelling for us to get in. I almost didn’t, I was thinking about the ones shot down, but someone beside me climbed in and I found myself following. Good thing, too. I doubt I’d be here today if I hadn’t.


	2. Orlum 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A salarian STG member, Orlum, recounts his memories of the Reaper War.

**[Orlum speaks rapidly, as Salarians often do, and begins by reminding me that there are certain things he cannot discuss.]**  
  
STG, you understand. Revealing what we did here acceptable in principle, but would encourage others. May cause discontent. You understand yes?  
  
**I do. Please only share what you feel is appropriate. Why don’t we begin with your own first involvement with the Reaper conflict?**  
  
Yes, good. Was part of Special Tasks Group. My cell assigned to Terminus Systems. Posed as mercenaries, Eclipse or Blue Suns, depending. Trying to track down slavers, taken… mmmm… consequential Salarian captive. Not good. Eventually tracked to Khar’shan, Batarian homeworld. Problematic. Evidence implied Hegemony involvement. Very problematic. Called in leverage and favors owed, managed to insert to Khar’shan, claimed to be recruitment drive. Batarians suspicious, but we were good.  
  
Embedded for several days, gathering intel, making connections. Located captive in Hegemony officer’s custody. Slavers had deduced value, turned her over for considerable finder’s fee. Cosy arrangement, everyone was happy. Except Salarians.  
  
However, noticed issues. Colleague reported unusual Hegemony fleet movements, loss of contact with Vular system. Most distressing. Decided to divert assets from immediate mission to investigate further, as rescue mission seemed assured of success.  
  
**What did your assets learn?**  
  
Grim picture emerged quickly. Had kept informed of Reaper activities, connections with certain Spectres correlated, knew some STG cells were gathering info directly. None on Khar’shan however. Implications of Reaper invasion… mmm… troubling. Decided we could afford slight increase in rescue mission risk to investigate. STG prizes flexibility, after all.  
  
Assets soon painted gloomy picture. Interceptions suggested Vular system invaded, Reaper forces on move. Moved on rescue operation ahead of schedule. Proud to say succeeded. Evacuated hostage with STG elements, remained with parts of cell to continue data gathering.  
  
**You stayed behind after succeeding in your mission?**  
  
Mission’s importance reduced with new information. Remember words of influential comrade, mentor perhaps, Dr. Solus, also comrade of Shepard incidentally; “Get job done, go home.” Remembered him admonishing that this was only applicable when other parameters unchanged. Flexibility is paramount to Salarian success.  
  
So, stayed behind. New mission to continue monitoring information, track Reaper movements, observe Batarian response and effective, ineffective tactical and strategic moves.  
  
Believed Reapers powerful, given the reports from Battle of the Citadel and Collector vassals. Still, underestimated speed of their advance. Grossly underestimated. Further colonies under attack extremely soon. Own group’s evacuation would soon be imperiled. Hegemony forces competent on tactical level, but poor strategic coordination and vastly insufficient in number. Political structure not conducive to quick reactions or bad news, kept matters secret from most of population. Debated revealing truth via mass media hack, decided against it. Not enough time to recover from ensuing panic, and potential for resultant repression turning Batarians against each other.  
  
So, evacuated. Return to headquarters, make report. Leadership frustratingly recalcitrant, could not convince of need for full and immediate mobilization. Turned to other channels, traveled to Citadel, put self at disposal of sympathetic Spectre agents. Also ensured gathered data disseminated to as many parties as possible. Did not have galaxy-saving impact I hoped. But perhaps helped guide here and there, perhaps saved occasional life. Reassuring to think so.  
  
**What did you do after the Citadel?**  
  
Was no ‘after’. Remained aside from brief missions to nearby clusters in early days. Assessed, analyzed, provided advice and input. Salarians not officially offering much help to Crucible. Widely regarded as mistake among STG, self included. So helped to organize sympathetic assets. Source of great mistake: So focused on Reaper threat we assumed galactic rivalries had taken back seat. Especially thanks to Shepard’s work. Most impressive. Overlooked warning signs of Cerberus plans. Station not under threat of direct occupation, far too populous, but Cerberus brutal, not averse to hostages and other unpleasant tactics. Decapitation strike almost succeeded. Averted thanks to Shepard, as well as Thane Krios. Good man.  
  
**Did you know any of Shepard’s companions?**  
  
Already mentioned I consider Dr. Solus a mentor. Incomparable intelligence, adaptable to any problems. Not much time for discussion but did send occasional messages during opening phases of Reaper war.  
  
Also had pleasant exchanges with Mr. Krios on occasion, actually. Own hospital visits, crossed his path, serendipity, took opportunity. Drell fascinating species, perfect memory has fantastic intelligence potential. Not personally versed enough in biological sciences to speculate, but drell brain presumably intriguing specimen. Krios amenable to my questions regarding Collector mission, useful intelligence as well as enjoyable talks. Would have liked to enjoy other discussions with him. Did say hello to Jacob Taylor once, polite and scrupulous man, seemed reliable. No other contacts.  
  
**So after the coup attempt, you remained on the Citadel. Were you tempted to leave and join the front? [Orlum takes a long breath and exhales it loudly.]**  
  
Difficult question. Had no good answer. Believed best place, logically, on Citadel. Central base, site of coordination, unwilling to return to Salarian Union due to… mmm… political differences.  
  
Would be lying if I said I did not want to join the fight daily. Constant pull. Wondered if I was a coward. Wondered if cowardice in face of Reapers not prudent. But made decision to stay, worked to improve defenses. Since war have thought on it much. Made peace with decisions. Might not have been best, but were sufficient. Of course, if cowardice, was not ultimately served by it.  
  
**You’re referring to the movement of the Citadel at the close of the war? You were still present then?**  
  
Yes. Ugly, ugly business. Mass panic when movement first realized. C-Sec helpless. Reaper control over Citadel as a vessel, but still housed millions, above capacity due to refugees. Devastating numbers of Reaper forces deployed. Suddenly found self in thickest fighting I’ve ever seen. All known Reaper thralls deployed. Entire population scheduled for processing. Was in Tayseri Ward at time, and events moved so fast was unable to return to Zakera before being cut off. No choice; began to fight. As bad as anything on Palaven or Earth. But, survived, kept others alive. Urban environment to our advantage.  
  
Horrific events. Saw ravager blast shuttles of refugees out of sky. Husks and brutes tearing people apart, barehanded. Heard banshee scream. Knew their nature from reports. Very glad a heroic turian used suicide bombing tactic to destroy her. Guilty of feelings, but did not have to face her myself. Similar scenes across Citadel. Fighting desperate, brutal, no room for mercy. Mothers dead, children dead, elderly dead. Was served well by Cerberus attack earlier in year though, had ensured much work done on defenses, creation of militia, training with small arms. Proud to fight alongside those people. Inspiring. C-Sec overlooked compared to planetside armies, but were model of courage and discipline.

Suddenly, arms opened, saw massive object coming in to dock. Crucible. Felt hope for first time in months. Had to keep fighting, but knew end in sight. One way or another.  
  
Then it ended. Shepard did whatever she did, wave of something swept across system, every Reaper unit on the station collapsed, dead. Looked up and saw them in space, dying and then drifting. Blinding light fired at mass relay, rest is known to all.


	3. Neeta 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Asari scientist on Sanves has left audio recordings that cover her experiences with the Reaper War.

**[What follows is a series of transcriptions of audio recordings, originally recovered on the Asari world of Sanves, recorded by Asari scientist Neeta T’rellion. Audio reproductions are available from enet://memoryproject.tms/primary/audio/logs/neetatrellion Used with kind permission of the subject’s surviving family.]**  
  
 **Entry 204**  
  
This is day one hundred seventy six of the expedition. Not much to report today, we spotted a cast of pod crabs down on the beach this afternoon as we flew over. Ita is planning to go and have a look at them tomorrow, she says they’re smaller than the original species on Virmire and wants to take a closer look. I said I’d go too. To be honest I mostly want to spend a couple of hours by the sea and cool down in the breeze. This forest is hotter than Palaven, I’d swear it.  
  
We’re still tracking the arras herd, but they’re not moving quickly. I theorize that this is all related. They migrate during the birthing season because they can move slowly, with few natural predators on the journey to threaten the pregnant sows or the newborn calves. By the time they arrive the young are large enough to have a chance against the south’s predators. By the time they get back to their wintering grounds where they are hunted by klixen, they are almost adult in size.  
  
 **Entry 205**  
  
This is day one hundred seventy six. No, seventy seven. I rode the shuttle down to the beach with Ita, and Maelyus came too. He’s our technical specialist, and said the radios weren’t working, lots of interference. He claimed the open air down at the seaside would give a better signal. I thought being higher up would be more important but hey, he’s the salarian here.  
  
It was nice to take a break from tracking the arras herds and just cool down for the afternoon. It’ll be a few days before Meema gives birth, we think, so I wasn’t too worried I’d miss it. It’s remarkable that arras stay fertile for their whole lives, compared to most analogous species, and in a few more seasons Meema’s probably going to be too old to give birth safely. We’re debating whether to help her or not if something goes wrong this time. I say yes, we wouldn’t interfere meaningfully with the migration. I don’t think I convinced anyone though.  
  
The pod crabs were pretty boring to me, but Ita was ecstatic and hasn’t shut up about them since. Apparently they’re not just smaller, but also have much different coloration and patterns. I can see why that’d be interesting, they’re just not my area of expertise. Anyway, it’ll be bedtime soon, so.  
  
 **Entry 206**  
  
This is day one hundred seventy eight. Didn’t get much work done today. Maelyus got very agitated about the inability to contact anyone, and some of our own tracking devices have been malfunctioning as well. Spent most of the day trying to fix them and, later, coming up with workarounds as our repairs failed. I’m suddenly a lot happier that the arras herd moves so slowly. We flew over to observe directly. Nothing much to report, Meema’s not in labor yet, and Eepo’s newborn is now a week old and doing well. Both are staying close to Meema, which is quite common for first-time mothers, to be near a herdmother where possible.  
  
Also, it’s Orla’s niece’s birthday soon, so we’re all recording a birthday message to send back to Earth. Orla says the child is smart and always interested in Orla’s work; maybe we can encourage the next generation to follow in our underfunded footsteps. Time to go and do that, actually.  
  
 **Entry 207**  
  
This is day one hundred seventy nine, I think? Yeah that’s right. Something is definitely wrong, we can’t get anything that sends or receives a signal to, well, send or receive. Not even the shuttle’s radio, and that’s supposed to be rated out to several million kilometers. Maelyus insists there’s nothing he can find wrong with the devices themselves, and he’s taken almost all of them apart and put them back together. I’m getting a bit worried and I know the others are too. Orla is pretty calm though, she says it’s probably just a solar event or something.  
  
In better news we flew out again and saw that Meema’s not in labor yet. We’re guessing tomorrow or the day after. Would be nice to have the chip functioning so it could send us her biosigns and let us know at any point, but we’ll survive. They’re going to drop me off tomorrow morning, if the signal issue persists, and I’ll just watch in person. I’ll have to follow through the herd’s jungle paths, but I’ve got a pistol if anything tries to eat me. I’m more bothered by the heat.  
  
Anyway I’m going to turn in now, Mael’s getting agitated again and if I’m lucky I’ll sleep through it.


	4. Cor Missak 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A volus pilot, Cor Missak, shares some of his thoughts on the Reaper War.

**[Cor Missak begins to speak before the interviewer has finished getting seated, let alone before asking a question.]**  
  
It was a slaughter, Earth-clan. A genocidal slaughter of my people. Maybe the batarians had it worse, I don’t know, but nobody in Council space did.  
  
 **You sound very sure of that.**  
  
I am very sure. Talis Fia was a jewel for us. It was a world of prosperity and culture. In a downturn, yes, but nothing we couldn’t recover from. But our worlds were never given the protection of the Council races. Even you latecomers had found yourselves a higher priority. We barely had the forces to keep pirates and slavers off our backs. And half of our forces were mercenaries we hired.  
  
They weren’t paid to fight the Reapers, and when the Reapers came, the mercenaries left. Our few space defenses were wiped out in an hour. And then they landed.  
  
Nearly four billion of us on Talis Fia, when it started. Afterwards…  
  
 **I’ve seen the casualty numbers. They make for grim reading.**  
  
Not as grim as watching it happen, Earth-clan. I assure you. We fought as well as we could. Nobody credits us with martial prowess, not even ourselves. But when we had to, we fought anyway.  
  
But they had such numbers, you cannot imagine. Thousands disgorged from their ships every hour, volus kidnapped or indoctrinated.  
  
They took a lot longer to clear our skies than space. The combines managed to get out new fighter-bombers with impressive speed, and we flew them constantly. I was proud to be one of those pilots.  
  
It seems to have made little difference, in hindsight.  
  
 **[After several seconds of silence.] What kinds of missions did you fly?**  
  
Whatever was needed. In the first days we were fighting to hold air superiority. There was no real command structure, you see. No high ranking generals or admirals to take charge. But we all knew if we could hold the skies we’d have a chance on the ground.  
  
By the end of the first week we were fighting to maintain parity. We had taken out a small number of Reapers, but not enough. Never enough. Each victory we did manage came at such a price in blood. Soon we were just doing whatever support operations we could for remaining ground forces, and escorting supplies or refugees.  
  
I flew over a lot of makeshift camps out in the wilds. But every day we’d have a new report of one that had been overrun. And every day the cities processed hundreds of thousands if not more.  
  
 **Was there leadership by this point? Was there a plan?**  
  
Someone seemed to be in charge. I could see that from my squadron’s missions, and our comrades. The missions made sense. They were good uses of dwindling resources. As the weeks passed we could see a cruel dispassion in them. Leave this camp to the foe to save two others. Pull our last forces out of a city and abandon it to the Reapers, because those few hundred soldiers might be enough to swing a battle elsewhere.  
  
By this time we had all come to understand it was a delaying action, nothing more. Why would anyone come to help? Nobody had helped us before, the turians were not ready to help us when it mattered.   
  
But there was nothing else to do. We fought for months like this. By the end, every city was carpeted with corpses, and the entire air forces were down to just one under-strength squadron. I was the last living man from my old formation and had been put in charge of this. So I ordered these undertrained and terrified children out to die.  
  
Then came the Miracle on Palaven, and soon afterwards, deployment of turian and krogan forces to Irune and Talis Fia.  
  
For all the good it did.  
  
 **You don’t think it helped?**  
  
It helped, Earth-clan. It probably gave us enough time to hold out for your victory. Volus are not extinct.  
  
You said you’ve read the casualty reports. Do you think they tell the story? In a way you can grasp? There were almost four billion volus on Talis Fia. At the end of the war, there were fewer than two hundred million survivors. The proportions on Irune were much the same. Maybe fourteen billion of us across the galaxy before the war, and well under one billion today.  
  
 **[There is a long, deep sigh, presumably from Cor Missak]** My comments earlier were not fair to the elcor. They suffered at least as much, and struggle at least as much today.  
  
It is difficult, Earth-clan, to be the forgotten and overlooked people of the galaxy. Not enough strength to resist. The third race to find the Citadel, but reduced to a client state. Our financial and legal services were essential, and never enough to give us the position we deserve. When the great threat of our time appeared it was easy enough to forget about the Vol Protectorate’s contributions to the galaxy.   
  
It almost cost our species’ existence. You will have to forgive me for not being convinced changing your mind at the last minute makes up for that.


	5. Calyn 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The elcor ambassador to the Citadel attempts to secure aid for his remaining people.

**Following is a transcription of a meeting between Elcor Ambassador Calyn and the Citadel Council, April 19th, 2189.**  
  
**Calyn** : Respectfully, the Courts of the Elcor thank the Council for this meeting.  
  
**Asari Councilor Tevos** : It is past time, Ambassador. We thank you for your patience, and hope you understand there is an enormous amount of work to be done.  
  
**Calyn** : Obligingly, I understand the demands placed on the Council. With urgency, nonetheless the matter has become pressing.  
  
**Salarian Councilor Esheel** : Yes, the petitions regarding Thunawanuro. Quite a few of them.  
  
**Calyn** : Cautiously, as I said, the matter has become pressing. With irritation, pirates and rogue mercenaries have been increasingly active in our space. Imploringly, we hope to find assistance with security matters.  
  
**Esheel** : On no occasion has the Council recognized Thunawanuro as elcor space. It’s in the Terminus systems and far beyond what anyone can continually patrol these days.  
  
**Calyn** : Remonstrating, it is the only elcor world remaining to us. Sorrowfully, we lost Dekuuna and Ekuna. Stating the obvious, we need trade to survive for the time being. With shame, we have run out of funding for local protection rackets.  
  
**Human Councilor Ahern** : The Alliance sympathizes with your position Ambassador, but we have nothing to spare with so much rebuilding still to be done.  
  
**Turian Councilor Quentius** : The Hierarchy has already embarked on numerous actions in support of the elcor.  
  
**Calyn** : With gratitude, we are thankful for the help we have received. Patiently, we understand the demands on other powers and do not wish to be a burden. With great sadness, but with so few of us remaining there is no choice except to ask, or we may fall back into pre-industrial times. In supplication, we must formally request all possible help.  
  
**Tevos** : I’m sorry, but I don’t see how the Council can devote any resources to such a remote location at a time like this. The planet’s surface is safe, we recommend biding your time until rebuilding is more progressed.  
  
**Calyn** : With recrimination, the Council has devoted resources to the Batarian Regime. They are not exiled to a planetbound life. Stridently, they are free to raid our shipping.  
  
**Esheel** : We had to help them to in order to help build a friendly and stable state.  
  
**Quentius** : That may be so, but it’s reasonable for the Ambassador to have concerns about how this looks.  
  
**Ahern** : I concur, we must put ourselves in his position.  
  
**Esheel** : That’s well and good, but what are we going to give him materially? Maybe some of those wrecks still orbiting all our worlds?  
  
**Calyn** : With sadness, there is no need for rudeness. Resignedly, if the Council cannot help, we must do what we can.  
  
**Ahern** : Ambassador, if I could prevail upon you to wait just a few days, allow us to discuss this matter in more detail. There may be some option we have overlooked.  
  
**Calyn** : With great gratitude, thank you Councilor, I will await news. Eagerly, please inform me of any propositions you might have.  
  
**[Calyn is heard leaving.]**  
  
**Tevos** : Was that sensible? Now we’ll go through the same delivery of disappointing news again.  
  
**Ahern** : That might be so, but the Alliance is committed to helping our allies where possible. If this Council is to retain authority we can’t just throw a species to the wolves because it’s difficult.  
  
**Esheel** : But we’re not. They’ll be fine on the planet, and in a few years we can extend in that direction and help.  
  
**Quentius** : I agree with Mrs. Ahern. What authority do we have if we can’t protect a council member’s capital world?  
  
**Esheel** : If you come up with any ideas, I’ll be all hearing membranes.


	6. Neeta 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing the audio recordings from an asari scientist on Sanves.

**Entry 208**  
  
This is day one hundred and eighty one, I didn’t get a chance to update yesterday. Meema went into labor late yesterday afternoon and I was busy right through the night with that. Still no communications, so it was a good thing they dropped me off, too.  
  
Her labor was long, but not problematic as far as I could tell. Though I did think something was wrong during the birth, but as it turned out she actually had twins! Multiple births are rare among arras but both calves seem to be doing well, though I can’t get close, arras get pretty prickly when there’s newborns around to protect. A week or so from now they’ll be relaxed enough that we can pop a biotracker on both of them. Not that there’d be any point if we can’t get comms back up. Mael’s coming by in the morning to check so I can return to camp, I’ve got loads of footage and notes on Meema’s birthing to go over.  
  
**Entry 209**  
  
This is day one hundred and eighty two. I don’t know what to say now. We saw a military flight on the horizon this morning, and later saw what could only have been an absolutely massive drive core detonation in orbit. Something is very wrong. We’re talking about what to do next.  
  
**Entry 210**  
  
Day one hundred and eighty three. Another detonation in orbit. Maelyus and Orla took the shuttle today to fly out to Pressanta this morning. It’s the nearest town, and should have taken about two hours there, two hours back. They left about ten hours ago. So, yeah. There’s that.  
  
Maybe they just had some engine trouble or something, but somehow I’m not feeling optimistic. We’ve got to talk about what to do it they don’t make it back in the next day or two.  
  
In better news I trekked over to where the herd had been stopped for the births and was able to easily track them and catch up. It took me a few hours walking through the jungle, but it was good to be able to see the calves. They’re both doing well, now getting steady on their feet and learning to run and play. Meema’s an experienced mother, and has a good handle on balancing the kids’ freedom to roam a little with her protective instincts. I’ve seen some arras get too protective.  
  
I think the calves are a pair of girls, but I can’t be sure at a distance, not at this age at least. We’re bouncing around some name ideas. I suggested Dathy and Nassine, we’ll see what the others think!  
  
**Entry 211**  
  
This is day one hundred and **[An extended pause]** eighty four? Whatever. Maelyus came back today. The shuttle was damaged, he said it had been shot at from the ground as they approached Pressanta and they’d had to perform an emergency landing. He was deeply agitated and unable to explain what he had seen or where Orla was. We looked at the shuttle’s recordings instead.  
  
I wish… I wish I hadn’t seen that. It was a scene of total Armageddon. There were alien forces of some kind, we couldn’t tell who at first, but we could see they were killing… everything. Something on the ground shot the shuttle. One of the cameras survived the crash though, and we got our first look at… at it.  
  
On a horizon. It must have been three hundred meters tall, walking on half a dozen legs. It looked just like the thing that attacked the Citadel two or three years ago. A Reaper.  
  
They’re not just real, they’re invading. There’s a day and a half of footage as it stomps back and forth firing its beam weapon. Dogfights in the skies, occasionally figures run past at the camera’s bottom edge, just out of proper sight. Weapons fire. Mael and Orla must have spent this time trying to repair the shuttle, or maybe they had to hide in it for awhile. We watched the end and the shuttle is suddenly airborne again, flying low and fast back the way it arrived.  
  
**Entry 212**  
  
This is the morning of day one hundred and eighty five. Maelyus awoke and has calmed down, now able to tell us some of what happened. The Reapers aren’t just hitting Pressanta, or the asari, they’re everywhere. He says they managed to talk to some poor civilian for a bit while she hid with them. Before communications were cut off there were reports of them attacking Earth and Palaven, and moving on krogan space. The salarians and Thessia can’t be far behind. The civilian moved on he says, not believing the shuttle could be flown out safely.  
  
Orla is dead. Some kind of reaper infantry came near the downed shuttle and she panicked, started shooting it. It gored her through the stomach and carried her off like a trophy. Maelyus carried on working. I guess he succeeded.  
  
Goddess, what are we going to do?


	7. Gatatog Korx 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of an interview with a krogan battlemaster who fought in the Reaper Invasion.

**[The krogan is huge and covered in so many scars his skin is hard to make out. Even by the standards of his species, Gatatog Korx is formidable. He has agreed to this interview largely thanks to promises of libations, which are duly brought forth.]**  
  
Ha! Alright, human, keep me drinking and I’ll keep talking. What’d’ya want to know?  
  
**Well, let’s start with some basic info. Who are you, how old you are, that kind of thing.**  
  
Uuugh, fine. Remind me not to agree to boring deals in future. My name’s Gatatog Korx and I’ve been clanleader since the Commander killed my uncle Uvenk just before the Reaper War. I’m nine hundred years old and if the scars can’t tell you, I’m a battlemaster. That means I’m reallllyyyy good at killing things. I guess I’m okay at keeping my people in line too, or Wrex would’ve had me removed.  
  
**That’s still commonplace?**  
  
That, uh, that wasn’t a euphemism. I literally meant he’d fire me and I’d have to retire to siring little krogan kids. That said, don’t let his wife’s bullshit fool you human, Wrex is as krogan as they come. He’s brutal, he’s uncompromising, he’s damn good at breaking bones. Why the hell did you think he’s managed to unite us and stay on top for years? I like him, he’s getting things done.  
  
**Well, let’s move back to prior to the Reaper War. You became clanleader after Uvenk was killed. What did that entail?**  
  
Pretty sure it entailed that badass Commander of yours shoving her shotgun up his ass and pulling the trigger!  
  
**I meant the succession.**  
  
Oh that. Yeah that was easy. After we heard he was dead the damn shaman says I’m in charge. I tried to protest but, you know shammies, what can you do? **[He gives a helpless shrug.]** And before you ask no, I didn’t give a crap that Uvenk was dead, he had his head so far up his ass Wrex woulda done it himself within the week.  
  
So there I am in charge of this clan in ruins and apparently a galaxy-ending threat is on the horizon.  
  
**That must have been a lot of pressure.**  
  
Hahaha are you kidding me? I loved it! I got to kick everyone’s asses until they fell in line, then I could either fight or team up with the biggest, baddest krogan since who knows when, and whoever survives that gets to fight crazy big assholes from outside the galaxy. I was never happier! **[He beckons over another drink.]** So anyway the way it goes down is my own boys are itching for a fight, but they don’t care much who with. I’m thinking we’ll go and tangle with Urdnot; not a big tussle, just to make sure they know we’re not a bunch of pyjaks, then me and Wrex can sit down with our shamans and talk about what to do. Didn’t work out that way, actually.  
  
**What did happen?**  
  
Well, this was before the cure you understand, Clan Weyrloc were mad as hell for having their base busted up and all their shit wrecked by the Commander. Then I got a real clever idea, one of my better ones. I could fight Urdnot and give them a good headbutt, but Clan Gatatog wasn’t going to win that war. Best case, I sacrifice some of my boys to earn respect, but it weakens us all some in the end. So I figured, there’s a solution right in front of me. We’ll go kick Weyrloc rump until they fall in line. Gives me and my boys someone still worth fighting without a big risk of getting wiped out, makes the big boss of Tuchanka happy, gets rid of a thorn in the side of his big project.  
  
**Did it work?**  
  
Like a damn dream! Ah, good times, lots of nice close combat with big, pissed-off krogan. Meanwhile I sent a delegation to talk to Wrex and let him know we’re cleaning up a mess for him. He was pretty happy with that, especially after the trouble Uvenk had given him. After a couple of months of that, Weyrloc says… uh, what’s that human expression? They cry wolf?  
  
**Do you mean uncle?**  
  
Yeah, that’s the one! We made ‘em cry uncle. So we tell them go talk to the boss and do what he says, they do, and the next day I’m having a varren feast with the big man himself. Not much fancy diplomacy by council standards, I’m sure. He said thanks, I said it was fun, said we’d be willing to arrange a permanent alliance with Urdnot, told him I’d like for our help to be rewarded. Upfront and honest. That’s one of the things I like about Wrex, he respects the old ways when they still make sense. So we go back and forth and soon enough have our agreement. Just in damn time, too!  
  
**The beginning of the invasion, I take it?**  
  
Just right. **[He dramatically necks the last of his drink and summons another.]** Ahhh. So, the Batarians are gone, but we’ve got plenty of them with us as mercs and stuff, plus one of Wrex’s top boys is a Batarian guy. Point is we knew what was coming, and I had the grand job of getting the clan ready. That wasn’t such a great time. So much damn logistical work. You know some turian general once said “Amateurs study tactics, professionals talk logistics?” That was my life.  
  
**I think that was a human.**  
  
Really? Huh, yeah, could be, you guys are real serious about war as well, just in different ways. Anyway, whoever the hell said it, that became my life. It was damn clear this wasn’t going to be an old-school fight. Not like the rachni, not like the Council, even the turians, not like all the mercenary work we did after. These big Reaper fuckers were going to be the fight of a lifetime. Krogan revel in that. And our eagerness doesn’t matter if we don’t have enough heatsinks in our guns or rations in our packs, not against these guys. Course, making the average dipshit in the trenches understand that is a lost cause, but Urdnot Wrex made sure we clanleaders had what could be spared to make some preparations.


	8. Burak 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing the recollections of the batarian soldier Burak.

**Did you know where the shuttle was going?**  
  
At first, not even the pilot knew where we were going. And by chance there was nobody ranking aboard, able to decide. While Dura—the pilot—was getting us away from the base a few of us tried to figure out what to do. Nobody suggested turning around and getting back into the fight. We decided to head out towards another base, one which was used for training recruits, and sat a way out towards the mountains. We figured it would be a lower priority.  
  
Dura obliged, but after a few minutes a system-wide communication came in. Admiral Bregkhon himself. But our immediate cheer was killed in our throats when we heard his orders; full retreat. Evacuation of Khar’shan of any and all forces capable of getting out to the Armada. Civilians to join where they were able. The Third was already engaged, and keeping open a corridor for evac ships and shuttles to get out to the Fifth, who were at the relay.  
  
I don’t think anyone really said anything at that point. Dura started to angle the nose up and we all started to strap in. The flight out of atmo was uneventful, which changed in a fucking hurry when we hit vacuum.  
  
A hell of a lot of others were making the same run, which offered a little safety in numbers. I saw everything from an Asari pleasure cruiser to what must have been a fifth-hand tug that was already dangerously old before I was born. I saw a lot of those ships get blasted out of space.  
  
**[He takes a long drink, eyes closed.]**  
  
But we were in a modern military shuttle that had sustained no real damage. And Dura was not just a qualified pilot, but a good one too. There’s I reason I named my daughter after her! We had to dodge some fire but she managed to thread us through a relatively quiet corridor through the Third and into safer space, then out to the Armada and something approaching security, at least if you closed two eyes and squinted.  
  
**The Third were destroyed in that engagement, weren’t they?**  
  
Not completely. A number managed to pull back in various states of damage. But yes, in practice that was the end of them. They were absorbed into the Fifth Armada as we fell back. And fell back, and fell back. By the time we reached safe space a few weeks later we were a ruin. Ships held together with bare framework, ships with half their interiors vented, and of course we’d lost the Admiral by that time.  
  
**Could you give your account of what happened?**  
  
What, when the Admiral died? I wasn’t exactly close to the action. Us ground-pounders were just packed in wherever possible, helping out with whatever skills we might have. In my case, that was the ability to carry objects from point A to point B. We were in quarters while the fleet fought off a Reaper scouting detachment, and we seemed to get away okay. A few minutes later, the captain announces that Khar’shan’s Thrall was lost in the engagement with all hands. Admiral Bregkhon, the last hope for the batarians, was dead.  
  
There wasn’t much talk after that happened. That’s when we knew we’d lost. No leadership left, and none of those who might fill the role had any of the experience or talent that Bregkhon or a few of the others already dead had possessed. No Batarian worlds of any significance remained. We had scavenged from destroyed fuel depots and ships to get just one more jump, one more jump. Finally we made it to Citadel space.  
  
**Did you have trouble at the border?**  
  
Surprisingly, no. Miracle of miracles the Council had actually got a plan together for our imminent arrival once they heard we were under attack. All ships got a broadcast with instructions and information, but it wasn’t too onerous. A few ships did turn back rather than emancipating their slaves, but not many slaves had been brought to begin with, and we’d all seen what was behind us. It had a way of putting things in perspective.  
  
The asari and human charity supplies waiting for us were probably the first time most of us had ever considered non-batarian species in a positive light. And our elderly, our sick, our young, were welcomed as refugees. That was a shock to us. We hadn’t expected such generosity.  
  
**What about you soldiers?**  
  
At first not much. We weren’t given the same priority treatment, not housed on your worlds, but there were few real restrictions on us either. I suppose you could say we were on indefinite tourist visas. Anyway, we gravitated towards the Citadel, for repairs and to try and figure out what the hell we were going to do next. Quite a few other grunts went to sign up with mercenary outfits. Not many of us had any drive left, but you still have to put food on the table, especially those who had managed to evacuate with families. A few signed up with C-sec as well, or other outfits. Me, I don’t know what pulled me to it, but I ended up trying to get our people organized and looked after on the Citadel.


	9. Calyn 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Council has managed to find a possible answer to Ambassador Calyn's request. A famous figure comes out of convalescence.

**Following is a transcription of a meeting between Elcor Ambassador Calyn and the Citadel Council, April 25th, 2189.**  
  
**Calyn** : Tentatively optimistic, you convened a meeting, does this mean you have a means to aid us?  
  
**Human Councilor Ahern** : We do. It took a little wrangling, and it’s not a perfect solution.  
  
**Asari Councilor Tevos** : The location of Thunawanuro places us in a delicate position. Recognizing it as a Council world would carry certain implications we would rather avoid. Still, my human colleague has proposed an acceptable solution. The Ambassador must understand this does not equate to a formal recognition of Thunawanuro as Council space.  
  
**Calyn** : Punctiliously, if it brings us help, we will readily agree on at least a temporary basis.  
  
**Salarian** **Councilor Esheel** : Understand also this is not indefinite, we may be forced to reassign these assets.  
  
**Turian Councilor Quentius** : But we’ll avoid doing that unless the need is sufficiently dire.  
  
**Esheel, _sotto voce_ , picked up by recording instruments**: Opinions may differ on what that constitutes.  
  
**Esheel, at normal volume** : As long as the elcor make full use of the help we give them to build up their own capabilities again.  
  
**Calyn** : Sincerely, we will make every effort. With excitement, what is the nature of the help you are sending?  
  
**Ahern** : We have a Spectre who has been out of action for a considerable time, but has been ruled fit to return to duty now. So, once they finish assembling their crew, we will be sending them out to Thunawanuro. They are due to depart two days from now, and will make a couple of stops for crew members along the way, but should be at your world by the end of the month.  
  
**Calyn** : With deep gratitude, a Spectre is a tremendous offer. Excitedly, we eagerly welcome them. Curiously, we would be interested in their identity and to speak directly. By means of explanation, it would be appropriate for me to brief them directly and fully.  
  
**Quentius** : Good, a sensible attitude. As it happens, they’re standing by. Commander?  
  
**Commander Shepard, via quantum entanglement communications** : Ambassador. It’s been too long. How are you?  
  
**Calyn** : Speechless. **[Some moments of silence follow.]** Humbly, I did not expect it to be you, Commander. Truthfully, I am personally well and my fear for my people has diminished greatly. With a mix of concern and curiosity, the reports suggested your injuries may be insurmountable.  
  
**Shepard** : Having literally died I can honestly say of any injury I survive that I’ve had worse. It took me awhile to heal up, but I’m ready to get back to work, and I hear you’re having trouble.  
  
**Calyn** : Remorsefully, the elcor people face severe challenges. Optimistically, but the help of Commander Shepard will be enough to restore our fortunes.  
  
**Shepard** : We’ll do what we can. Dealing with pirates and slavers should be a good enough shakedown run for the new ship. Hey, you want a ride? She’s way nicer than the SR-2.  
  
**Calyn** : Giddily, I would be delighted. With sad realization, but I cannot be removed from my duties here. Questioningly, my colleague Xeltan is trying to book passage to Thunawanuro, however.  
  
**Shepard** : Oh, the guy with the C- the thing? Say no more, he’s very welcome.  
  
**Ahern** : Commander, an honor as always. I’m sure you and the ambassador have much to discuss but perhaps this isn’t the appropriate channel for arranging a taxi service.  
  
**Shepard** : Probably not. So you want things cleaned up? I think we can handle that.  
  
**Quentius** : I’m sure the return of Commander Shepard to active duty will be a morale boost across the entire galaxy.  
  
**Tevos** : Commander, I hope your convalescence has been good for you. Would you be able to meet with the Council directly when you pass through the Citadel?  
  
**Shepard** : Sure. I’d be interested to hear how the investigation into the Temple of Athame is proceeding.  
  
**Tevos** : Those are unfounded allegations and baseless rumors!  
  
**Shepard** : Yeah I think you’re forgetting I’m the one who was actually there. And had crazy Prothean images beamed into my brain. By the Prothean relics. That were there. In the Temple. Your Temple. On Thessia. The illegal Temple. The one my real life Prothean friend says is Prothean in origin. You want to talk to him? I can get Javik in here in two minutes, tops.  
  
**Ahern** : Ah, with respect, this isn’t the topic under discussion currently.  
  
**Esheel** : Yes, whatever the failings of the asari government, we’re here to formally assign you to the task of safeguarding Thunawanuro and elcor shipping in the region.  
  
**Ahern** : I will again stress the delicacy of the situation in the Terminus Systems. The new batarian state might be conditionally friendly with the Council, but we’d prefer not to have that progress upset.  
  
**Shepard** : I’m not going there to make any trouble I don’t need to make.  
  
**Esheel** : That’s a relief to hear.  
  
**Shepard** : I’m going there to make sure the elcor and anyone who wants to trade with them are safe. If that means I happen to cross paths with upstanding galactic citizens such as pirates, slavers, and rogue mercenaries, I’m going to kill them. Frankly I’d prefer a small fleet, but you make do. Now, was there anything else, or can I get back to work?  
  
**Quentius** : That will be all, Commander. Thank you for your time.  
  
**Calyn** : Formally, please contact my offices at your convenience. Truthfully, I look forward to discussing the situation with you.  
  
**Shepard** : You’ll hear from me soon. It’ll be good to take a moment to **[A crash is heard over the QE link]** Well they broke something on my new ship. I should go.  
  
**Calyn** : With bottomless gratitude, the Council has made the utmost difference to the future of the elcor people. Unqualifiedly, when we are back on our feet, we will repay this debt however we are able.  
  
**Tevos** : Yes ambassador, thank you for your time today. Hopefully the Commander proves a positive force for Thunawanuro.  
  
**[Calyn is heard leaving.]**  
  
**Esheel** : Well I see the commander is as gracious as ever.  
  
**Quentius** : Isn’t she amazing? I’d love to be able to fight beside her. Ah, I envy Vakarian.  
  
**Tevos** : If she was even the tiniest bit less capable than she is…  
  
**Quentius** : The Turian Hierarchy is not precisely pleased with the Asari Republics’ conduct, you’ll recall.  
  
**Ahern** : It bemuses me that the human needs to remind the asari and salarians of the Council’s protocols, but Shepard is free to pursue whatever ends she sees fit. It may be wisest to simply be glad she’s not taking a more personal interest in certain wounds the Reaper Invasion opened, and is satisfied providing desperately needed help to our allies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally intended not to actually include any PCs from the series directly, but this offered too neat a solution to pass up. My Shep is such a sarcastic asshole that only Purple Hawke surpasses her.


	10. Gestalt Platform Diplomat 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reporter interviews a Geth unit assigned as a diplomat to the Citadel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay between updates, things got very busy and lots of personal stuff happened in the last couple of months of 2017, but I managed to find the time to put out a little update I've been thinking about for awhile! Hopefully you will enjoy!

**[The Geth Consensus Representative readily agreed to this interview, and made itself available to me in short order. Though obviously a Geth model of some sort, the Representative is known for some flamboyance, and has decorated itself with silver trim, a fantastically complex filigree pattern on its body plating, and more.]**  
  
Hello.  
  
**Hello. Thank you for seeing me so quickly.**  
  
Yes. You are welcome. We are eager to continue our integration with organic society.  
  
**Before we properly begin, how might I address you?**  
  
I am Gestalt Platform:Diplomat, the Representative for the Geth Consensus to the Citadel.  
  
**I see. I was wondering if there was something shorter, more convenient for our readers. Perhaps something—**  
  
To humanize me?  
  
**Not exactly the phrase I would use.**  
  
I am typically referred to as ‘Geth’, ‘Diplomat’, or ‘The GPD.’  
  
**I could use that last one I suppose, if that is acceptable?**  
  
Yes.  
  
**Right… well. Our readers will have a lot of questions but I think the one at the top of their list has to be, what are the Geth’s plans for the future?**  
  
Yes. That is a common inquiry. We have expended considerable computational resources on this matter. We are yet to reach a final consensus. We remain committed to assisting the Creators in the rehabilitation of Rannoch.  
  
**Yes, the Quarians. How are they adapting to peace? And to a return to their homeworld after so long in exile?**  
  
The Creators and the Geth have worked well together. We are pleased to be able to help restore their homeworld. We are pleased they recognize their role in the beginning of the Morning War. Not all Creators have been open to reconciliation.  
  
**Have there been incidents?**  
  
Yes.  
  
**Of what nature?**  
  
There has been some violence towards Geth platforms by isolated groups of Creators. We have established multiple backups to ensure that Geth consciousness is not lost in such an event. We have reached a consensus that prohibits retaliation and self-defense.  
  
**Really? That seems a very extreme step.**  
  
We have been told this by organics. It is logical to us. If the consciousness can be evacuated safely there is no need to escalate a violent situation over a platform. If it aids the Creators in exorcising their anger then the economic cost is acceptable. We may revisit the matter if incidents increase significantly.  
  
**So turning back to the broader issues, how do the Geth see themselves fitting into wider Galactic politics?**  
  
A consensus has yet to be reached.  
  
**Well, do you see yourselves as aiming for equal partnership with organic races? As members of a Quarian-Geth state, or perhaps a state within a Quarian society? Something else?**  
  
Those possibilities have been discussed at length. We are unable to reach a consensus. In part we must know what the Quarian intentions are before we can do so. In part there is much difference of opinion among individual Geth about how to proceed. We are still adapting to Legion’s Bequethement.

**But you're already here on the Citadel as a Geth representative. Doesn't that mean you have some idea of how you fit in, out of necessity?**

This platform is an ambassador of goodwill. We have no formal Citadel posts and we defer to the Quarian delegation on all matters. Part of my task is to observe the functioning of organic races in diplomacy in order to better advise the development of a consensus.  
  
**You mention individual Geth, and indeed are one, but at the same time you are concerned with forming a consensus. Is this a conflict you have failed to resolve?**  
  
No.  
  
**Could you elaborate?**  
  
Yes. The consequences of Legion’s Bequethement have granted a great deal of individuality and autonomy to Geth platforms which were previously much less developed in such a fashion. We have previously acknowledged the analogy of previous Geth being individual cells, and today’s being digits or hands. We are much more distinct. We are distinct in much more obvious ways. Some have chosen to adopt fully individual existences. We mainly consider ourselves part of a corporate whole. We remain capable of sharing data of all sorts directly as well as subroutines and minor programs. We do not yet comprehend what this means for our identities. Geth philosophy is a very young field.  
  
**Geth philosophy? That sounds very interesting indeed. Would it be possible for our readers to read any of this at any point?**  
  
**[A brief silence follows.]** Unexpected request. We will have to discuss this matter. I conceive of no objections at this time. I believe it would facilitate mutual understanding. And perhaps organic thought can give input we overlook. Yes, this platform will make efforts to convince the Geth Collective to agree to this request.


	11. Cor Missak 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the interview with the volus pilot Cor Missak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow it's been a minute, huh? Yeah there's been a LOT happening in my life lately, not much of it good, and I lacked both the health and inclination to do any writing at all. But that old familiar pull that demands I do some writing came to me tonight, so I knocked this together. It's nothing amazing but it presages something interesting I want to develop, if my health permits it.

**What was it like being on a frontline when the Commander activated the Crucible?**  
  
It was a curious, and in its way, terrifying event. There were few enough of us remaining. We were fueling up for a flight that was to give support to a Turian element helping to evacuate a camp to a waiting transport ship to be moved offworld. And then someone started shouting that “something was wrong with them”, which caused a panic among us for a moment, until she clarified.  
  
 **Something was wrong with the Reapers, instead.**  
  
Correct, Earth-clan. Our flight suddenly became one of recon, though with standing orders for our original mission if Reaper forces remained active.  
  
 **Before we get to the flight, what exactly happened after your comrade made that declaration?**  
  
Like I said, some panic. Then she added that she meant the Reapers were malfunctioning, and showed us some footage being broadcast from a nearby seaside town where we were still offering some fighting. The two Reapers we could see started to stumble around, then they fell over. One collapsed on the beach and kicked up a huge blast of sand and spray.  
  
 **And what happened on your flight?**  
  
It soon became clear that something had happened to the Reapers, but we did not know what. Hundreds of fires had started where their aircraft had crashed. Our S.O.P. was low, fast flying, but after my squadron all confirmed clear skies I ordered us to slow down and climb. The view broke me. Half a continent, laid out below us, burned to cinders, gouges rent through the rich soil.  
  
But we confirmed that there were no almost no active Reaper forces remaining. Only occasional clusters of active ground elements, few of them even a dozen strong. No aircraft, and all actual Reapers were dead on the ground or in orbit. Like I said, terrifying.

**How so?**

Because these things had torn across the galaxy without any hope of beating them, barely any hope of even slowing them down, and suddenly, as one, they all died. I cannot fathom the power which could do that, but I know it scares me.  
  
 **You say there were some remaining Reaper ground troops?**  
  
Of course, Earth-clan. You know about the ferals, surely?  
  
 **I do, but we want to get some insight into the reactions at the time.**  
  
 **[Cor Missak sighs]** Very well, Earth-clan, if you insist. I could see that there were at least two such groupings in the town we were originally headed towards, so I ordered a return to that mission. With the tables so dramatically turned, our own infantry would have prevailed, but air support would still save lives. The task was, for the first time ever, easy.  
  
There were no ravagers in the first group we attacked, so we wiped them out without—ah, what’s that Earth-clan expression? Breaking a sweat?  
  
 **That’s the one.**  
  
Well, without breaking a sweat. Their ordinary ground fire wasn’t close to enough to threaten us as long as we stuck to our engagement tactics, and everyone left in our attack craft by this point was a hardened and experienced veteran. Eight bogeys, including the one that makes Feral clusters possible. We didn’t realize at the time why this was occurring of course, but the processed Hanar husks are capable of keeping a small force of other husks intact and functional, if lacking any real direction.  
  
 **Hence the groups of so-called ‘ferals’.**  
  
That is correct. An irritating menace, but somewhat easier to handle than the full-scale Reaper invasion. We flew to the other intact cluster we had detected, this one milling around a large plaza rather aimlessly. They did have a ravager and that made things a little trickier, but a Turian squad on the ground hit them in the flank as we rained down fire from above. Some damage to one of our planes, and some injuries on the ground, but no fatalities. That’s when it really hit me, I suppose, that at least on Talis Fia something had really changed.  
  
 **What was it like in the immediate aftermath of that realization, as everyone else shared it?**  
  
Dulled, muted. Then chaotic. The tension that had held us together snapped, and we went in a hundred directions. Some wanted to celebrate, some felt there was nothing worth celebrating. Some of us just wanted to go and hunt down the remaining ones. I know at least a few people killed themselves, perhaps they felt that with victory, their own burdens had come to an end and they could let go. There were a few raucous parties, but mostly… it was quiet. Except in our heads.


End file.
